


Training Exercise

by capsicleonyourleft



Category: DCU, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Polyamory, Smut, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 05:28:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5485328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capsicleonyourleft/pseuds/capsicleonyourleft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce and Steve are exquisite together. Tony and Clark appreciate their skilled performance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Training Exercise

One moment Steve has Bruce trapped under him on the mat, pinning his hands down over his head; the next, Bruce lifts his hips and hooks his ankles over Steve’s legs, using the momentum to reverse their position. Their sparring is a well-choreographed dance; they flow across the room in a showmanship of poised control, as beautiful as they are lethal, competing for the lead role.

Tony has long since stopped pretending to focus on the tablet in his hands. Heck, he can hardly recall what he’d been working on in the first place; under the circumstances, no one can fault him for it. Bruce and Steve are not ten feet away from him, bare-chested and sweat-slicked, wearing nothing but tiny workout shorts that cling to every curve of muscle. Really, nothing could make Tony tear his eyes away from the sight.

Nothing, it turns out, except for the gravelly moan that sounds from the man on his left. It’s a sound he’s intimately acquainted with, having heard it an infinite number of times, on many different occasions, in many different positions. Despite of that, it never fails to elicit the same enthusiastic response from him.

Sure enough, when Tony risks a glance at Clark, it’s to see him pressing the heel of his hand against the sizeable tent in his pants. His neck is flushed and he’s biting the inside of his cheek in an attempt to muffle the sounds being ripped from his throat.

“You’re hard,” Tony observes, more to get Clark’s attention than anything else. He slides over on the seat to close the short distance between them, their thighs now pressing together. “Watching them like this makes me hard, too. Let’s help each other out, yeah?”

“ _Tony_ ,” is all Clark manages to say, a plea, his voice hoarse and already desperate. It’s the only encouragement Tony needs, really, so he swings his legs over Clark’s knees, settling in his very comfortable lap. He reaches up to touch Clark’s face, fingertips dancing across sharp cheekbones before moving to trace his puffy lips. Clark’s breath hitches and Tony smiles at him, brushing stray hair out of his eyes. His pupils are blown wide, the thin ring of blue surrounding them barely visible.

“They’re exquisite, aren’t they?” Tony says, hanging on to Clark’s strong shoulders and beginning to grind against his erection. With his back now turned to them, Tony regretfully can no longer see what Bruce and Steve are up to, but their grunts fill the room, spurring him on. Clark’s hands come up to his waist, giving it a quick squeeze before sliding past denim and cotton to grope his ass, kneading bare skin. Tony moans. “Tell me. Tell me what they’re doing.”

Clark licks his lip, his gaze fleeting between Tony’s mouth and the sparring match, looking torn. “Steve tried to kick out Bruce’s legs from under him. Bruce counteracted and now has Steve on his stomach.”

Tony’s eyes slip shut, letting the image Clark is describing fill his mind. His hips arch on their own accord, seeking contact with the warm body beneath him. “ _Touch me_ ,” he says, not sure if he’s begging or commanding. It hardly seems to matter, especially when Clark finally reaches for him, cupping him through his jeans. Tony’s mouth opens on a gasp and he lets his forehead drop on Clark’s shoulder.

“Bruce has Steve pinned down on his stomach,” Clark continues as he pops the button on Tony’s jeans and lowers the zipper, maddingly slow. “Steve _likes_ it. Likes that Bruce is holding him down, likes being under him. I can tell by the way his heart rate just picked up, can hear the blood rushing towards his cock. I don’t think he’s trying very hard to get free.”

Tony whimpers, both at the words and the feeling of Clark’s hand dipping into his pants, closing around him. Clark’s nimble fingers brush the tip of his cock, his thumb rubbing around the slit, spreading the pre-come that’s dribbling out. Tony feels like he’s on fire, sweat gathering on his brow, heat churning low in his belly.

“ _Kal_ ,” he pants right into Clark’s ear, delighting in the way it makes his whole body shiver, like it always does. He leans down for a kiss, licking into Clark’s warm and pliant mouth, letting his tongue explore all the ridges he memorized long ago. “What do you want them to do next? Tell me.”

Clark’s other hand is still on Tony’s ass, supporting his weight. He moves it just so, letting one finger slip into the cleft between his cheeks, a teasing touch that leaves Tony aching. He gasps and sinks his teeth into the junction between Clark’s neck and shoulder, bucking into the hand on his cock.

“I want them to tear off those tiny shorts they wear to drive us crazy,” says Clark, lifting his hips so his clothed erection brushes against Tony’s. “Want Bruce to ride Steve until he can’t stand straight, right on that damn mat, right through the floor.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Tony swears, because he can never get enough of hearing Clark talk like that. It’s too much, it’s all too much and he needs. “I need to see. Need to see them, Clark.”

Clark doesn’t respond. Instead, he grabs Tony’s hips and lifts him up, turning him to face the training mats, still sitting on his lap. Clark’s chest is a solid wall of heat against Tony’s back, his erection pressing into the small of his back.

When Tony finally gets a glimpse of Bruce and Steve, his eyes nearly bug out of his skull.

Steve is lying on his back with Bruce straddling his stomach, thighs spread on either side of him, his tiny shorts riding obscenely high on his long legs. The two of them have clearly noticed what Clark and Tony had been up to, and the air is thick with tension. Bruce is staring at them with the same shrewd, intense gaze he uses to devise strategy, and Tony wonders if he’s preparing his attack. His sweaty hair is falling onto his eyes and the corner of his mouth begins to turn up in a barely-perceptible grin. Nobody moves for a long moment, the four of them stuck in a hazy trance, drinking their fill as they size each other up.

Steve is the first to act. He grabs the back of Bruce’s nape and surges forward, capturing his mouth in a filthy kiss. He wraps his legs around Bruce’s waist, knocking him off balance so that he falls flat on top of him, not an inch of space between their bodies. They pull and bite on each other’s lips, their kiss messy and full of promise as they grind against each other.

“Get over here,” Bruce growls—and, _oh, fuck_ , Tony’s cock gets that much harder when he uses the Batman voice. It takes both Clark and Tony a moment to realize the command is directed at them. “ _Right now_. Don’t make me ask twice.”

Clark, like the good boy scout he is, hoists Tony up and does just that.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://capsicleonyourleft.tumblr.com/post/135420902156/imagine-steve-and-bruce-sparring-clark-and-tony)


End file.
